Voice of the Bear
by TheRedHoodedFox
Summary: Arnor is on a journey for vengeance when he discovers an old friend in Riften when she decides to help him on his dark path. In this new chapter of his life, Arnor must now keep secret both his powers of the Voice and his true lineage...
1. The Lost and The Found

**Hey, y'all! I decided to start a new story in the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim universe! This will start out as an adventure with a tad bit of romance, though other genres will eventually be added at my discretion. Some stories will be original; others will include canon events from the game and its DLC. Some mods from creators will be included, and though it's not necessary, I suggest you check them out to stay as caught up as possible. You are not obligated to download them; it's your choice. Full recognition for these original works of art will be provided. Also, this is only a side project while my Commonwealth Hunters story for Fallout 4 is under a period of writer's block and a few issues have arisen with fellow authors, and I want to make sure I do it right. As always, Until the sun sets again.**

 **Chapter 1 – The Lost and The Found**

0o0o0o0o0

Iona walked the streets of Riften, her hand lightly resting atop her war axe. She knew the dangers of her city, especially the Thieves Guild and Maven Black-briar. Cross one, and you cross them both, usually ending up with no money to your name or a dagger in your back, and that's if you're lucky. Iona, however, had to be especially cautious, as she was protecting a powerful ally of them both. Arnor, Thane of Riften and Guild Master of the Thieves Guild. Close friend of Maven Black-briar and the best thief North of the Jerall Mountains. Of course, she wasn't supposed to know the part about him being a thief and member of the Thieves Guild, but accidents happen.

Iona was brought out of her reverie by a group of children running between her and her charge. Arnor was currently at Balimund's forge, wearing a blacksmith's apron with the sleeves rolled up and buttons open. He was hammering away at a glowing chunk of metal. He had been at this for hours, smithing dozens of arrows from a special steel he had created the day before, the recipe for which he had stated had been passed down for generations in his village where he had grown up. The barbed design and stronger steel provided the arrows with a point sharper than any in Skyrim save for Eorlund Gray-mane's. He used the same custom steel for his weapons, which were placed reverently in a nearby corner, and for his armor, piled nearby.

She watched him for a moment, admiring his form as he worked. Sweat ran down his body in rivers from the heat of the warm summer weather and the burning forge. The cloth of his tunic clung tightly to his large arms and toned chest. His nearly shoulder-length auburn hair stuck to back of his neck, which glistened from the sweat, and his mismatched green and amber eyes were shining from the flames in the forge. The grin on his face was contagious, and she soon found herself copying his expression. How he found joy in this excruciating job eluded her, but who was she to complain when she had this amazing specimen to watch?

Arnor looked up and noticed something from behind Iona. His grin vaporized as quickly as his sweat hitting the embers of the fire in front of him. Iona caught movement in the corner of her eye and saw Maven Black-Briar herself approaching them from her manor on the opposite side of the plaza. Iona stiffened and removed her hand from her axe. Better safe than sorry. Arnor, however, looked back down at his job and took the arrow mold from atop the anvil nearby and placed the now flattened steel into place before settling the top over it. With several swings of his hammer, the arrowheads were formed and split apart from the glowing remains which he dropped into a bucket and the heads themselves into the nearby water trough to let them cool. Only then did he look around to face Maven, who had stopped beside him moments before.

Iona felt her body tense up. Only Arnor could ignore Maven for so long, and she still feared for his well-being when he did so, no matter his relationship with the matriarch of the Black-briar clan. "How can I help you, Maven?" she heard Arnor ask nonchalantly, his rolling Nordic voice sending jitters of pleasure down Iona's spine. She watched as the two conversed quietly for several minutes before Arnor slumped in defeat. Iona stalked towards them, taking care not to draw attention to herself.

"Arnor, you deserve this, especially after helping Ingun last winter and expanding the meadery to Whiterun in the spring, not to mention that business with Mercer earlier this summer." Maven was beginning to lose her patience, and was motioning wildly with her hands. "Whether you approve of it or not, it's still happening and it still needs a name!"

"But I don't deserve this!" responded Arnor desperately. "I already received my pay for those ingredients from Ingun! You already paid me in full for my aid in Honningbrew Meadery! Killing Mercer was payment in and of itself! There is no reason for this!"

"Oh, Divines damn it, just pick a fucking name already, Arnor. This is happening whether you want it to or not."

Arnor sighed and leaned back against the wall and thought for a moment. "Fine. How about Blackthorn?"

"Blackthorn?" Maven paused. "I like the sound of it, but why that?"

Arnor smirked. "In honor of the Black-Briar family's benevolence, of course."

Maven scowled at Arnor. "I forgot how persuasive you are. You can be a real bastard sometimes," she said as she turned and walked away.

"You can thank my father for that," Arnor called out as Maven entered her home. He smirked and returned to his work at the forge. He looked up and noticed Iona standing close by. "What is it, Iona? Something wrong?" he asked as he straightened up, fingers twitching for his weapons.

She shook her head slightly and focused on the task at hand. "No, nothing. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right over here. I saw Maven talking with you and wanted to make sure you didn't end the day in a jail cell or a grave."

"Ha, as if that would ever happen," Arnor laughed out. "She likes me too much to get rid of me."

Iona shook her head, chuckling. "Whatever you say, my Thane."

"Believe whatever you want, Iona. Now, I need your help with something. Could you get me some firewood? I need about a dozen logs." Arnor scooped out the arrowheads from the cooling trough and dropped them into a leather sack, already bulging with unsharpened arrowheads.

"How many arrows are you making?" she asked incredulously as she approached the pile of logs and started picking them up one by one.

"Well, I'm hoping to get around five hundred arrows from today's efforts, but I won't be able to complete them until that shipment of eagle feathers comes in. That won't be for another few days, though, so I have plenty of time to take care of a few other things in the city."

"I don't see why you don't have someone else do this for you. That way, we could be out exploring while the arrows are finished."

"I'm not about to give my village's steel or weapons to just anyone, Iona. It belongs to my culture. We created it, we sell what we want," he finished, his mood darkening.

Iona gave up trying to argue the point. She recognized the futility of arguing with Arnor and once the topic of his village was brought up, the dark memories would be too much for him. Of course, good times last only so long.

As she walked back to Arnor at Balimund's forge, her arms filled with logs, she noticed the smith himself leaving his home. "Arnor! How are you, my friend?"

"Just fine, Balimund. I finished forging some arrowheads, so it's all yours again."

"As always, your timing is impeccable. Now, if only you would teach me your metallurgy tricks, I think we could call it even," Balimund boomed out with a laugh.

"Sorry, old friend, I still can't tell you. There was only one other person who could have told you the secret and they're not sharing any time soon."

"What happened to them?" Balimund asked, a light shining in his eyes. Iona could tell where this was going.

"The same thing I saw happen to the rest of Amdu'ul. Burned to the ground." Arnor finished filling the sack with arrowheads and harshly tightened the string on top. Balimund and Iona froze in their tracks, eyes wide. That was not how Iona had expected the conversation to go. She tended to forget how horrifying Arnor's past was, as he so rarely spoke about it with anyone.

None of them noticed Mjoll marching towards Arnor until she shouldered Iona out of her way. "What the f-?" Iona recognized the movement and was about to call out to her Thane but she was too late. Mjoll grabbed Arnor's left shoulder and spun him around. With a yell, she launched her right fist into his nose, sending him sprawling against the wall. He collapsed to the ground unconscious, and everyone stood still for a moment. Suddenly, everything snapped back into place. With a yell, Iona readied her axe and raised her shield. She charged forward, axe raised high, poised to defend her friend.

"Stop!" Aerin tore in front of Iona and raised his hands in surrender. Iona planted her feet and stared down the small Imperial, axe still at the ready. He turned back to Mjoll. "Mjoll! What in Oblivion was that?!"

Mjoll turned to Aerin. "He was there, Aerin! He said he was there at Amdu'ul!"

"What!?" yelled Iona, now flanked by city guards, weapons drawn and aimed at Mjoll. "What is Amdu'ul?"

"My village! It was raided by bandits when I was a child!"

"Mjoll!" Aerin was furious. Iona had never seen him raise his voice at anyone before and here he was screaming down the Lioness of Riften. "He never said he was attacking it! He could have been helping defend it!"

"There was no help! We were left on our own! Everyone was killed in the Great Hall after they rounded them up and tied them together!" Behind her, Arnor stirred and opened his eyes. "I was able to escape because my friend cut my bonds and fought for my life…"

Mjoll was slowing now, tears running down her face. "He was killed in front of me, I will never forget the look of pain on his face as he…as he…" Mjoll collapsed to her knees, sobs wracking her body. "We were supposed to…watch each other's backs…he was taken from me…a werewolf tore out…his throat…"

She felt gentle arms wrap around her shoulders and she wrapped her arms around her comforter. "Mjoll," a strange voice called. She tensed. Arnor's voice. Rage built up inside her again. She lashed out with her fists, but they were caught easily by his large hands. "Mjoll, look at me," he said calmly.

"No! I will not listen to you! You murderer!" Mjoll twisted to get out of his grip, head still lowered. With a grunt, Arnor moved both her wrists to his right hand and wrapped his left around the back of her neck soothingly, his fingers tangling in her soft golden hair. She struggled more intensely, but to no avail.

"Mjoll, who am I?" Arnor asked again. Iona wondered how he kept so calm during this confrontation.

"You're a killer! You're a liar! You stole my love from me!"

"Mjoll, look into my eyes." She kept struggling, trying to rip her hands from Arnor's steel grip. "Mjoll, please, look into my eyes and tell me who I am and I swear I will let you do whatever you wish to me, no matter who you decide I am."

Mjoll instantly stilled her movements. Slowly, she looked up into Arnor's eyes. His left green eye was shining brightly in the setting sun, his right amber eye reflected the embers of the forge nearby, glowing orange from the dying coals. The small scar from a dagger on his right cheek flickered in the light of the flames. Dark circles from many sleepless nights darkened the underside of his eyes, and the occasional freckle drew attention for half a second. Mjoll stared intently into his eyes, her gaze accented by an angry scowl, doubtful she would find anything to her liking. Suddenly, she gasped. She raised her hands, mysteriously free from his grasp, and cupped his face gently. "Arnor…?"

She trailed her hands from his face down to his tunic and gently grasped the laces. Pulling back the fabric, she stopped. She grazed her fingers over the ugly scar that reached from his right collarbone to his sternum. The tell-tale marks of a werewolf's jaws marred the skin. Mjoll bit back a sob that threatened to escape from her throat. She looked back up into Arnor's eyes and smiled. "Arnor, where were you?" She threw herself forward onto him, nearly sending them both to the ground. She wrapped her arms around his torso and hugged tightly, in fear that he might disappear out from under her. Sobs sent tremors down her form, shaking her from her head to her boots. "I thought you had died." Tears escaped from her bright blue eyes and dropped onto Arnor's shoulder.

Arnor smiled lightly and drew Mjoll closer to him, bringing her practically onto his lap, armor and all. "Hey, I'm here now. I'm here and I don't plan on dying anytime soon." Arnor closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of the warm embrace.

Iona wiped her eyes discretely. She didn't want to be seen crying, especially in the presence of her Thane. She looked around and noticed the crowd they had attracted, citizens and city guards alike. Near the back, she could have sworn she saw Delvin's balding head glinting in the sun. Iona turned back to her Thane and knelt down beside him. "Thane Arnor, we should get off the streets. We've got quite an audience and I doubt you and Mjoll will like the attention."

Arnor nodded and opened his eyes before rubbing the back of Mjoll's neck soothingly. "Mjoll, we should go. We can all go to my house and finish talking there. I agree with Iona, there are too many people here."

He heard a grunt of agreement and helped Mjoll to her feet after a bit of awkward footing and last-second sobs. When Arnor looked into her face, he saw tear-stained cheeks and a genuine smile that reached her eyes. With a grin, he led her by the hand from the forge and down the alley toward his home, Aerin in tow. Thinking for her Thane, Iona retrieved his weapons and armor and carried them along with her to Arnor's house. Once she stepped inside several minutes later, she paused at the sight before her.

There, in the middle of the room, Arnor and Mjoll were standing in an embrace, with Aerin leaning against the wall awkwardly. A closer look revealed fresh tears were flowing down Arnor and Mjoll's faces and their mouths were slowly moving in a whispered conversation. Iona stepped down the stairs and placed Arnor's armor on a mannequin and his weapons on the racks nearby. The sack full of arrowheads she dropped into a chest which held a pile of the ingots Arnor had been using all day.

She climbed the stairs and found the two warriors unmoved from their position. She approached Aerin and whispered, "How long have they been like this?"

"Since they first got in here," he replied in a hushed tone. Iona joined him in leaning against the wall. "I have no idea what they're saying to each other, but I'm not about to intrude." Iona nodded in understanding. After years of being separated from each other, the two deserved their time together.

After several moments, Arnor and Mjoll finally separated, and pulled up two chairs to the fire before sitting down. Following the unsaid order, Iona fetched two more and sat down in one, offering the last to Aerin. Once everyone was seated, Arnor turned towards them and Arnor addressed the housecarl and friend of the fighters. "Mjoll and I have decided that we're going to combine our efforts in something I've been working towards for the last several years, seeing as we both share a common goal."

"Which would be…?" asked Aerin, turning toward Mjoll.

"Vengeance," the Lioness said simply.

Both Iona and Aerin froze. Never before had their charges so much had discussed the idea around them, even mentioned their past well enough for them to consider it. Iona only knew Arnor's village had been destroyed and he never said the name until today, and Aerin shared that sentiment.

Arnor decided to take the reins. "Mjoll and I lived in a village to the northeast, near the border of Skyrim and Morrowind. Ten years ago, it was attacked by a large group of bandits, four of five dozen in total. The guards were able to hold them off for a while, but eventually they broke through the walls. We don't know why they chose our town, but within an hour, all the guards were dead, including Mjoll's mother, who was the captain of the guard at the time, and my father, who was our chief. They rounded everyone up and put us in the Great Hall, which they proceeded to burn to the ground.

"I was able to get myself and Mjoll free before they saw us. I took most of them down with my father's sword which hung over the head table, but one was a werewolf. I pushed Mjoll out through an open window and that's when he pounced on me. After a fight, which gave me this scar," Arnor stopped his story long enough to open his tunic and revealed the scar Mjoll had inspected before, "I was able to pierce his heart with my father's sword. His blood poured into my wound and…I…I transformed."

All three members of his audience heightened their attention. "You transformed?" asked Mjoll. "What do you mean…?" The way she asked proved she knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from Arnor.

Arnor sighed before continuing. "I turned into a werebear," he said simply.

Silence filled the room. No one dared breathe lest they awaken the beast lying inside Arnor. After what seemed like an eternity, Mjoll reached out and placed her hand gently on Arnor's shoulder. "It's all right, we'll find a way to cure you."

Arnor pulled away from her grip. "No, I don't want to be cured. At least…not anymore."

Mjoll's gaze hardened. "What? Why wouldn't you want to be cured of that disease?"

Arnor looked up into her eyes with a steely determination. "Because I've come to love this power. At first, I feared it, I _hated_ it, because of what I could do to others if I lost control. Then, when I learned I had total domination over it, I hated what it had done to _me_." He looked down to the floor, in shame and embarrassment. "Only a few years ago did I accept this gift I have. The strength, speed, and cunning have all helped me, even when I am not in my bear form. The only thing that troubles me is the fact that a wolf turned me into a bear. I've read all the scrolls, all the books I could find, and they all say it's impossible. A wolf turns a wolf and a bear turns a bear. It's as simple as that. The only possible reason I can come up with is that my father was a werebear before I was born, and the beast blood was dormant inside me, waiting for a catalyst. That spark came from the bandit's blood."

Everyone in the room stared at the man in front of them. Even Iona could not help but question her Thane's sanity when he confessed to loving his power. Iona spoke up, albeit quietly. "When you said you have complete control over it, how is that possible?"

Arnor looked up to her and answered as truthfully as he could. "Werewolves and werebears are not the 'transform only during the full moon' beasts people believe them to be. We are strengthened by the full moon, and some lose control of their blood should they transform during its effects, especially werebears, with our more potent blood, but we are not limited to how often we can transform by that much. The only limitation we have is that we can transform once a day, after the moon itself has passed over us."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Aerin interrupted. "You're saying werewolves can transform once a day?!"

"Yes, though there is a powerful Daedric artifact that can grant an additional transformation, allowing the wielder to change twice a day."

"There is?" all said in unison.

"What is it?" asked Mjoll.

Arnor raised his hand, palm facing away from them, to reveal a silver ring with a wolf's head on it. "This. The Ring of Hircine. I saved Sinding from Hircine's Hunt, rather than kill him, and Hircine gave this to me as a gift for the entertainment."

"Sinding? He's alive?" asked Mjoll, ecstatic with joy from the newest revelation, and shocked that Arnor would ally himself with a Daedric prince.

Arnor grimaced. "Yes, he is. He was one of the survivors from the attack and moved to Falkreath, but I'll get to that in a minute. He stole the ring, and Sinding cursed it to force him to transform at random, and lose all control of his blood. As a result, he killed a young girl, and was put in the Falkreath prison, which is where I found him. He wanted to be rid of the ring, so I willingly took it until Hircine removed the curse after the Hunt. Since then, I have used the ring rarely, as I only transform in the direst of circumstances."

Mjoll stared at Arnor, pride and fear evident on her face. Never before had she met someone as brave and foolhardy as he had been, even before the attack on their village. Now, however, it seemed he had become almost reckless.

Mjoll stared down at her hands, covered in the blood of so many enemies over the years, and wondered how Arnor's must be like. ' _What has his life been like? How many has he killed in the last ten years? Who has he become?_ '

"So…why would you want vengeance?" asked Aerin.

Arnor's expression hardened, his brow furrowed. "Because of what they did to our village. Our families. Our lives. They burned everything to the ground. They killed almost everyone. The survivors spread across Skyrim, Cyrodiil, and Morrowind. There were nearly two hundred villagers in our town, and only about twenty survived. I've tracked most of the remaining bandits down and killed them. I became a bounty hunter when I reached twenty years of age, and I have used that to my advantage. Most of them already had bounties, so it was a simple job of finding them. The rest were easy, even if they were upstanding members of society. I'll have to tell you all about it sometime later, as each success was a long story.

Though now, it seems the last few have returned to Skyrim, which is why I came back from my travels. Four are leading their own bandit camps dotted across Skyrim, two are in a vampire coven somewhere near Solitude, another is a housecarl for a Jarl, and two others are somewhere in Skyrim, though I don't know where. I'll just cross that bridge when I come to it, I suppose."

Iona and Aerin shared a glance before nodding. "How can we help?" asked Iona.

Arnor sighed. "I knew you'd ask that, Iona. I want you to stay here and protect Maven when I'm not around. If word gets out that I'm hunting them down, the bandits might try to get to me through the people I care about." Iona nodded in approval.

Mjoll tensed when Arnor mentioned the Black-Briar matron. "You know Maven Black-Briar?"

Arnor looked to Mjoll in defiance. "Yes, she's a dear friend to me. I know she works with the Thieves Guild, and I don't care."

"How can you not care?! They've ruined lives! They're as bad as the bandits that destroyed our village!"

"Mjoll, that's not fair and you know it. We do not kill others. We stopped stealing from citizens last year, and it's helped our business in the long run."

Mjoll narrowed her eyes and she knew she struck gold. "What do you mean by 'We?'"

Arnor's eyes widened in shock when he realized what he'd said. Then they matched Mjoll's. "I am the Guild Master of the Thieves Guild, freshly chosen earlier this summer. We now steal from corrupt bureaucrats and ensure killers and those who do ruin others' lives are punished. We then take their valuables before they are distributed randomly between the city guards. We donate to certain people who need it, but other than that, we keep most of it to ourselves. I developed my skills rather early on, if you'll remember correctly. Especially when we wanted to find a broom cupboard to escape to for an hour or two while in our teenage years."

Mjoll blushed at the memories from her childhood. "Yes, I remember well enough, Bear," she murmured with a smirk.

"Bear?" asked Iona wondrously.

This time, it was Arnor's turn to blush. With a manic grin, Mjoll explained, "Yes, it was my name for him while we were in our village. Arnor and I were…well, we weren't betrothed, but our parents were seriously considering it."

"Wait, you two were an item?" Iona exclaimed.

"Yes, we were. I called him 'Bear' because he was well-built, even back then. That and he was my favorite pillow when I had a nightmare," Mjoll finished with a gentle smile in Arnor's direction.

Arnor glanced outside, and noticed the stars had already risen above the horizon. He saw the opportunity to escape the awkward conversation and took it in both hands. "Well, then," he said as he stood and clapped his hands together, startling everyone. "On that thought, I think it's time we went our separate ways for the night. I should meet with a few people about what transpired this evening. You, Mjoll, as well as Aerin, should get some rest. I say we rest up for now and meet here tomorrow an hour past sunrise."

"All right, sounds good to me," said Aerin as he and Mjoll got to their feet and he started walking to the door. He looked back to see Mjoll still standing in front of her chair, considering something. "Mjoll? Are you coming?"

Arnor looked to her expectantly. Mjoll shocked everyone when she turned and placed a gentle kiss on Arnor's cheek. "I'm glad to have you back, Bear."

Arnor's face cracked into a grin. "I'm glad to have you back, too, Mjoll." With a nod, she left his house and closed the door behind her.

0o0o0o0o0

 **Mods mentioned in this story so far:**

 **Blackthorn – A Buildable Town in The Rift**

 **Author: LD50365**

 **Valiant Nord Bow**

 **Author: corvalho1**

 **Berserk Judeau Armor Mod**

 **Author: Gimora**

 **Ported to Xbox One by: TFBO**

 **Isilmeriel's LOTR Weapons**

 **Author: isilmeriel**


	2. The Lioness and The Bear

**Hey, y'all! Not many new mods are introduced in this chapter, but those mentioned in the previous chapter are described in more detail.**

 **As always, Until the sun sets again.**

 **Chapter 2 – The Lioness and The Bear**

0o0o0o0o0

Arnor stepped out of his home under the cover of darkness. He pulled up the hood to his Guild Master armor and closed the door behind him. He let his mind go blank and his spirit called out to Lady Nocturnal. His body became transparent without a noise and he began his short journey through the streets of Riften towards the Guild.

…

"So, you're saying she's from your village?" Brynjolf's voice carried through the cistern, echoing off the walls.

"Yes," Arnor sighed. "She's from my village. We grew up together when we were children and were separated when it was attacked nearly ten years ago," he explained.

"So, let me get this straight," drawled Delvin. "You and Mjoll, the vigilante of Riften, Oblivion-bent on wiping us out, were almost betrothed?" A nod. "HA! Oh, this is too good!" Delvin broke out in laughter and bent over, and would have fallen out of his chair had Vex not steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I can't believe this, Arnor. Why did you never tell us about her?" Vex asked, a hurt expression on her face.

"I never knew she was here!" exclaimed Arnor. "I'm down here most nights and I'm out there in the wilderness exploring most of the day! How in the name of Talos was I supposed to know she was even still alive?"

"All right, lad, I think you've proven your point," cut in Brynjolf.

"Thank you, Brynn."

"You've more than proven you're still head-over-heels for her and we respect that," he said with a smirk.

Arnor sputtered and stammered for a moment before he regained his composure. "I'll admit, several emotions have resurfaced since I saw her today, but 'head-over-heels?' No, I don't think so."

"Whatever you say, lad," Brynjolf replied. "Now, I think we need to have another discussion. What are we going to do about these dragons? Several of our caravans have been destroyed in the past few months, and we need to take some preventative actions."

"What are you saying we do, Brynjolf?" asked Vex. "Throw Delvin to them? Appease another curse?"

Delvin did not like the jab at him one bit. "Now, little lady, I don't- "

"Enough!" All eyes turned to Arnor. "No bickering about this. I already have someone working on it, so there's nothing we can do but wait for them to take care of it."

"Nothing we can do?" said Delvin. "What about additional security? Surely we can do that."

"No. Unless you want the gold we paid them with to end up in a pile of dragon shite, we'll just have to wait."

A series of unenthusiastic nods answered him. "Good. Now, Brynjolf, I need to speak with you alone."

"All right, lad." Both men stood and entered the cistern where the other thieves were assembled. The full force was not present, as several of them were out on jobs across Skyrim, but those who were there and noticed him greeted Arnor with a wave and a kind word. Arnor silently led Brynjolf across the room to the golden safe doors. "Lad, if you're trying to copy Mercer, you've got another thing coming," said Brynjolf jokingly.

"No, but what I'm about to say is more valuable than all the riches in this room put together," replied Arnor seriously. Brynjolf's face sobered and he nodded. "All right, put your key in, we need to get this over with."

Arnor and Brynjolf unlocked the vault with their respective keys and swung the door open. Once inside, they closed it again and locked it. "All right, lad. Out with it."

Arnor looked hesitant before he started. "I'm looking for someone; an old man known as Esbern. I learned he was somewhere in Riften and he may be essential to ending the dragon threat across Skyrim."

"Wait, I thought you said you had someone taking care of this."

"I do. I'm taking care of it. If you want something done, you have to be willing to do it yourself."

"So, is this why you're always leaving?" Brynjolf asked. "You're trying to end the dragons?"

"That's right."

"Damn it, lad! Why don't you leave it to the professionals? I'm sure the Dragonborn, whoever and wherever they are, has it all taken care of. Relax, go rob a few politicians or something."

"I can assure you, they don't have it all taken care of." Arnor stared down Brynjolf. "That's why I'm looking for this man in Riften."

"Why, are you helping them or something?" asked Brynjolf, starting to doubt the whole situation.

"In a way," answered Arnor.

"How?" questioned Brynjolf.

"By doing everything, unfortunately," groaned Arnor, seeing where this was going. "My associates are planning everything from the sidelines, leaving me to do all the heavy lifting and risk my life every time I go out there."

"So, what, the Dragonborn is lazy and piles everything on you? Why aren't _you_ the Dragonborn if this keeps up?"

Arnor looked away, finding a nearby broom to be more interesting than this conversation.

Brynjolf's jaw dropped. "You're joking. Don't tell me you are Dragonborn…"

"I am not Dragonborn."

"You're joking aren't you?"

"Which part?"

"Ah, to Oblivion with this. Are you Dragonborn or not, laddie?"

"Yes. Brynn, if I told you earlier, you never would have believed me. You can kick my arse later if it helps, but right now, I need your help. So, is the old man here or not?"

With a sigh, Brynjolf answered. "Yeah, he's here. Has been for a while, really. He's in the Warrens. He must have been truly desperate to hide down there. We usually have Dirge and a hired mercenary clear it out once every couple of weeks, but the man leaves us alone and causes no trouble, so we return the favor."

"Thanks, mate," Arnor said with a grin. "You just helped save the world."

"Right…let me know when you finish off those damned dragons, then maybe I'll believe that."

"Will do, Brynn," Arnor said and with a laugh he opened the vault door. He passed through the cistern and left through the Ragged Flagon, waving to Vex and Delvin who were chatting at the bar when he noticed a khajiit woman sitting in a corner table, poorly trying to hide that she was watching him. He nodded at Dirge then at the cat before he quickly passed through the Ratway and emerged into the city of Riften. He pulled up his hood and disappeared into the night. He had one more stop to make before he could return home.

…

Arnor stepped into the alleyway, hoping there were no guards nearby. He continued on until he reached the end before he turned around and ducked just in time to avoid an elven dagger aimed at his throat. Before the khajiit woman could attack again, a pair of strong arms came around her and held her wrists tightly, causing her to drop the dagger.

"Thanks, Dirge," Arnor said with a smile.

"No problem, boss," Dirge replied while Maul walked up behind Arnor.

Arnor turned to the woman and lowered his voice so only the four of them could hear. "Now, I am going to ask this once or I'm going to have my friends here escort you to Maven Black-Briar. Who are you, why are you tailing me, and who hired you?" He slowly drew his dagger from its sheath and pressed it against her throat.

"This one's name is Shavari. Elenwen hired this one. She said to follow you, to kill you when this one had the chance and to report back to her as soon as possible."

Arnor smiled. "Well, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He looked back to Maul. "Take her to Maven."

Shavari's eyes widened. "What?" she practically screamed. Dirge answered by shoving a rag in her mouth and tying it behind her head.

"I never said you _weren't_ going to Maven," Arnor said menacingly. "You're going to find out why you should never work for the Thalmor." He nodded to Dirge and he and his brother escorted the cat to the Black-Briar Manor. The next morning, a khajiit woman would be found on the docks with a dagger stabbed through a note and into her heart. The note read, _'A gift for the Thalmor bitch.'_

0o0o0o0o0

Mjoll woke to a light tapping on her shoulder. "Mmm…later, Aerin," she mumbled and rolled over to face away from her intruder, her golden hair covering her face.

"I don't think Arnor would like that very much, Mjoll," Aerin replied, his voice heavy in the fog of her sleep. Immediately, her eyes shot open and she sat up in bed. "Thought so. Come on, let's get ready to head out. We need to meet Arnor and Iona in an hour."

She nodded and threw her legs over the side of her bed. Arnor left her room and closed the door behind him. He went to the kitchen and fixed a quick meal for the two of them. They had settled into a steady routine since Mjoll had taken up residence with him. Aerin would rise early and head to the market while Mjoll would sleep in another hour. When he returned, he would wake her and fix breakfast, then the two would go their separate ways until lunch, when they would meet at The Bee and The Barb. From then on, they would patrol Riften together, often concluding Aerin's business with the traders around the city.

Aerin looked up when he heard Mjoll walk in. She was fully armored and her battle axe was strapped to her back. She sat down at the table and Aerin brought two plates of food over before sitting down himself. "So, what do you think will happen today?" he asked, digging into his breakfast.

"I'm not sure, Aerin," she said sincerely. "I can only hope that at the very least we can swap stories of the past several years. At most, I'm hoping we can come up with a plan of what we're going to do. I want to join him on his quest, but I don't know where I could fit into his plans. Lastly, I want to hear what happened to cause him to throw his lot in with the Thieves Guild bastards in the Ratway." She explained and spent the rest of the meal in silence, which Aerin respected.

After they finished breakfast, they cleaned their mess and left for their meeting. They crossed the main thoroughfare and passed Haelga's Bunkhouse before arriving at Arnor's home. Mjoll raised her hand and was about to knock when she hesitated. Right before she turned to Aerin to say something about forgetting about the meeting, he finished the job for her and rapped his fist on the door. With a look of apprehension, Mjoll stepped behind Aerin. A moment later, the door swung open and Iona stepped out, dressed in a simple red tunic and brown pants combo, with black boots on her feet. In her hand was a wooden practice axe. Upon seeing the guests, her face cracked into a smile.

"Come in! My Thane is waiting for you downstairs." She led them inside and down the steps to the first floor. "You may want to be quiet for a bit, though. He's working on something at the moment." She passed through a door and placed her axe on a practice dummy nearby before sitting in a chair near the door. Mjoll walked in and at the back-right corner was Arnor standing in front of an arcane enchanter. He was muttering under his breath and was entirely focused on the item before him. Mjoll stood still while Aerin joined Iona in a nearby seat and picked up a quiet conversation with the housecarl.

Moments later, Arnor stopped his chanting and revealed the item, a sword Mjoll was all too familiar with. Its long Amdu'ul steel blade shimmered in the light from the candles, emitting a gentle violet glow from the lightning and blood magical enchantments imbued into the steel. Its handle was covered in dark blue leather, which she remembered was sabre cat hide, dyed from blue mountain flowers found near her village. The handguard held a pair of sapphires, one on either side of the blade, which reflected the light of the flames and sent rays of light across the room.

Arnor turned to grab its matching blue sheath when he noticed Mjoll. Immediately, he smiled and returned the sword to its scabbard. He buckled it to his belt, and it stood out against the common green garb he was currently wearing. "Mjoll, I'm glad you came," he said as he walked up and threw his arms around her in a warm embrace. Mjoll and Iona were shocked, one from the gesture, the other because she had never seen him hug anyone else before. After a second, Mjoll wrapped her arms around Arnor and his grip tightened. Oh, how she had missed this.

She pulled away and lowered her arms, prompting Arnor to do the same. "I can't believe you still have Silfeyn, after all these years," she said in awe.

"Yes, I've kept it with me since Amdu'ul fell," he said as he grasped the handle of the sword hanging from his waist. "I'll never leave my father's sword behind. Speaking of which, where's Grimsever?" asked Arnor, gesturing to the iron battleaxe strapped to Mjoll's armor, taking the place of the glass greatsword. "You haven't misplaced your mother's sword again, have you?" he said with a knowing smirk.

Mjoll looked to the ground in shame, her wheat-blonde hair falling to cover her pale blue eyes. "I might have. I was in Mzinchaleft when I was attacked by a massive Dwarven machine. I've never seen anything like this colossus. When it hit me, I dropped Grimsever. It must have thought I was dead, because I was able to crawl out of the ruins."

"Describe the machine for me," Arnor said kindly, leading her to a chair beside two mannequins, one donned in a black version of the Thieves Guild, and the other in a grey and steel armor Mjoll had never seen before.

"Well, it was huge. It was over twice my height and walked on two legs. On one arm was an axe, and on the other, it wielded a massive hammer. It was surprisingly quick, it hit me when I was trying to run past it."

"Hmmm…it sounds like a dwarven centurion. Well, I think we can add that to the plans."

"Plans? What plans?" asked Aerin from the other side of the room.

"The plans I've come up with so far," explained Arnor. "I'm still trying to find the remaining bandits from the attack on Amdu'ul, but I believe Mjoll could use some time to get back in the saddle, so to speak. Mzinchaleft is a bit out of the way, so we can stop there after we go through Riverwood."

"Why are we going to Riverwood?" asked Mjoll.

"I need to make sure something gets there. After that, we need to head to Solitude to meet someone. We can go to Mzinchaleft on the way there."

"Sounds good to me," said Mjoll with a smile. Arnor nodded and turned to Aerin.

"So, Aerin, is it?"

"Yes."

"What do you do around Riften?"

"I trade in wines across Skyrim, ensuring they make it to their destinations." Aerin shifted in his chair, uncomfortable from all the attention on him. "I was approached by Maven a few months ago to work with her to transport her mead, but I quickly refused that offer."

"Why did you do that?" asked Arnor. "I bet you could double your profits."

"Because I will not make dealings with that woman. I don't trust her."

"Maven is a better person than you think she is, Aerin. She cares for the innocent more than even she shows. It just takes a little prodding."

"Oh? And what acts of kindness has she done lately, Arnor?" queried Mjoll, rage emerging on her face, evidently from discussing the Black-Briar matron.

"Lately, she pledged her support of the Honorhall Orphanage. She realized that all those children were being treated poorly, and after Grelod was killed, she took the chance to promise her sponsorship. She had tried before, but gave up after Grelod refused to meet with her. I myself had tried several times to help the children, but Grelod wouldn't see me after the first time I talked with her. I'm not saying I'm glad that woman's dead, but I'm certainly glad she's no longer in charge."

"Why? What was she doing?" asked Aerin.

Arnor quieted and looked away so Iona decided to speak for him. "She would beat the children. She essentially turned the Orphanage into her own house, and used them as her personal servants. If they told anyone what was going on, she would starve them. I, personally, _am_ glad she's dead."

"Okay, enough of that," cut in Arnor. Apparently, the situation was depressing to him, if the expression on his face said anything. "Mjoll, are you coming or not? I need to know by tomorrow morning, because I'm leaving soon, and I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"I'll have to think on it, Arnor," she said hesitantly. "I would really like to join you again, but going on adventures like this, it's just something I need to consider."

Arnor smiled gently and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I understand, Mjoll. It's not something you want to jump into. I still have business to conclude and I need to grab a package. If you would like to join me, I would appreciate it. I'm expecting resistance on this run."

Mjoll smiled at this. "Where are we going?"

Arnor removed his hand and leaned back in his chair. "We're going into the Ratway warrens. A group of people are searching for the same thing I am, so we need to beat them to it."

Seeing her chance, Mjoll asked, "Are we facing the Thieves Guild?"

Arnor sighed before answering. "No, we are not fighting them, Mjoll. They are my friends and allies. They are the ones who got some of this information to me."

"How could you even trust them? How are you sure they won't just stab you in the back and take your gold?" she hissed.

"Because they trust me. I saved them this last summer and I've turned them around into a more efficient machine. Before you get onto a side trail of morals, let me once again explain that we _do not_ steal from the innocents. We steal from the corrupt bastards who take advantage of those they see as beneath them," he stated with a glare.

Mjoll stared at Arnor, awed by the passion with which he spoke about a group of people she had once thought so vile and cruel. But with Arnor at their head, just how cruel could they be now? She looked down, ashamed that she had questioned her friend in such a way.

"Who are you?" she muttered to herself.

"What was that?" asked Arnor.

Mjoll looked up into Arnor's eyes. "Who are you?" she repeated. "Who have you become over the last nine years?"

Arnor balked slightly at the question. That…had not been what he was expecting. He thought for a moment. He needed to say the right answer.

"I don't know who I am. I've only focused on my quest, moving from one job to another. I haven't really had time to think about what I was becoming. But as my father used to say, 'You never know yourself. You only know what others say about you.' I guess I can blame him for not really trying to understand myself better."

Mjoll smiled. "You really are Arnor. The kid who always got into trouble with the chickens in old Seir Lyon's farm."

Arnor groaned and placed his head in his hands, covering his face. "You just had to bring that up again, didn't you? I can't believe you remember that."

Mjoll belted out a laugh, struggling to control her mirth. "How could I not remember? You were chased for the rest of the day by a flock of angry hens and the rooster wouldn't stop glaring at you when we passed his house for the next year. I've never seen a chicken hold a grudge before."

Arnor sighed and raised his head. "Well, I was an idiot back then. Alright, I need to get my weapons and armor. Mjoll, if you're ready, head on upstairs. I'll be just a minute."

With a nod, Iona led Aerin and Mjoll to the second floor and sat them down in front of the fire. "So, Iona, how did you become the housecarl for Arnor?" Aerin asked.

"I was already trained to be a housecarl, and was assigned to guard Jarl Laila's quarters while she was away. I believe Arnor stopped a skooma operation before Laila gave him the title of thane. He bought this house and I was ordered to move here to guard him and his belongings. Of course, I'm never treated like a bodyguard. Arnor considers me a friend, and I share those feelings. He's a good man and I respect him after all the adventures we've been through."

Mjoll's expression hardened when she heard this. "Adventures? Such as?"

Iona smiled when she heard her tone of voice. "Don't worry, Mjoll. I'm not marking him as mine in any way. We've explored ancient ruins, captured dangerous criminals and the like. We've worked with the Imperial legion on multiple occasions, as well. I originally didn't care much for the war or who won, but after seeing what the Stormcloaks do when they 'liberate' a town, I can honestly say I support the Empire. While the Empire may not have the strength it used to have, they don't attack any innocents simply because they are not a Nord, unlike those Stormcloak bastards."

At that moment, Arnor came up the steps, dressed in his personal armor, his sword around his waist on his left side and a dagger on the right, and a bow and quiver on his back. The bow was larger than any Mjoll had seen before, nearly as tall as Arnor himself. The dark wood was accented by a polished metal and bone handle and on one end of the bow was the head of a bear, and on the other was a mean-looking sharpened spike. The dagger appeared ancient, the metal was as black as the night and the hand guard curved downwards to the hilt. The blade itself was easily a foot, if not a foot and a half, in length.

The armor was composed of steel plates over a grey tunic with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. His torso was completely covered and a row of four throwing knives were secured on a belt across his chest leading from his right hip up to his left shoulder. A spaulder of several bands protected his left upper arm and he wore a steel vambrace around his left forearm. He wore a simple fingerless grey glove nearly reaching his elbow on his right arm and dark grey leather boots. A grey cloak lined with gold Nordic runes hung from his shoulders and his hood was lowered at the moment. Several potions and pouches were arranged on his belt around his waist and a Destruction spell book hung from the back right of his belt.

"Where did you get those weapons?" asked Mjoll, who did not recognize either one and was shocked by the differing states they were in. The bow was polished to a shine but the dagger looked like it had not been maintained for centuries.

"I made the bow last winter from oak wood, quicksilver, and the tooth of a saber cat that came too close to the city. I found the dagger this spring in a Nordic ruin. Apparently it belonged to a dragon priest from the First Era. He, along with all his personal belongings, was cursed by the Nords after he was killed during the dragon war in a raid on his war camp. They have both served their purpose well."

"And the armor?"

Arnor rubbed the back of his head nervously, unused to the positive attention he was receiving. "I forged it years ago. I used the same metal my uncle used in Amdu'ul when he was smithing the weapons for our guards."

"Huh. You need to show me how to do that. I could use some new armor," she said as she glanced down at her current set of banded iron armor.

"I'll forge it for you," Arnor offered. "My uncle taught me everything, remember?"

"You would? That would be amazing. Thank you, Bear," Mjoll said, blushing slightly. Both Iona and Aerin noticed this, but Arnor was too busy trying to hide his own blush to see her reddening cheeks.

"Alright, I'm heading out to grab a package. I should be back by tonight. If not, Iona, find Brynn and tell him what happened."

Iona nodded, "Yes, my thane."

Arnor turned to the Lioness. "Mjoll, would you like to accompany me? I'm sure you would like to get some practice in while you think on your decision."

Mjoll smiled when he said this. "You know me so well, Arnor."

"We grew up together, Mjoll. If I didn't know you well, what kind of friend would I be?"

"The worst type imaginable, Bear," she retorted with a smirk.

"Very well, then, let's go," he said before he stepped out the door.

Mjoll was about to join him when a hand grabbed her arm in a gentle grip. "Be careful, Mjoll," Aerin pleaded. "I don't know this man you're going off with, and I don't trust his character or his skills."

"It's fine, Aerin. I know Arnor will protect me from any dangers we may encounter, and I trust him. He was the kindest man in the village other than his father. I'll be safe, you can trust me on that. Besides, he was the best spellsword in the village before it fell."

"All right. Be safe."

Mjoll turned and stepped out of the house. There, leaning against the wall of Haelga's Bunkhouse, was Arnor. He stood in the shadows with the hood of his cloak up and covering his face in darkness. "Ready to go?"

Mjoll nodded. "Aye."

Arnor pushed off the wall and led Mjoll through the city and down the wooden stairs to the entrance of the Ratway. "We're going to be passing through the Ragged Flagon shortly, so whatever you do, don't attack anyone. Don't worry about anyone stealing from us; they know not to mess with me or anyone who's with me."

With that on her mind, he pushed open the door. A rancid stench bombarded her senses, the odor burning her nose and watering her eyes. They made their way through the passageways with no problems, seeing no living humans on the way, though there was the occasional bone in a corner. None too soon, they entered a large cistern with a wooden platform built out over the water. Along the wall to their left and right were crevices in which shopkeepers had built their stands. As they passed, the shop owners waved to Arnor who responded curtly. When they reached the wooden platform, Mjoll saw the infamous sign hanging beside the gate.

They passed everyone in the tavern, Mjoll's fingers twitching for her weapon strapped to her back. Arnor led her to the back without a second glance at anyone holding a drink, unperturbed by their presence. They opened a final door and shut it behind them. Finally, Arnor drew his dagger. The black metal gleamed wickedly in the torchlight, a red and violet glow emanating from the ancient weapon. Mjoll followed suit and unstrapped her iron battleaxe from her back. Arnor stepped forward and silently made his way through the sewers, Mjoll on his tail, her boots thudding with every step and rarely avoiding the common puddle of questionable water.

Arnor, while skilled in stealth, found Mjoll's lack of it beyond annoying. It was downright dangerous. However, he wisely chose not to say anything, afraid of what might happen should he anger the Lioness with a massive battleaxe in her hands. He grinned when he remembered the last time he faced the wrath of the battle maiden…

0o0o0o0o0

" _Arnor! Where are you?!" a fifteen-year-old Mjoll called out into the cold and snowy darkness, a massive wolf at her feet, a sword in its throat and several arrows in its hide. Arnor and Mjoll had been separated from their hunting party when a pack of wolves had charged through their ranks. Normally, they would have been able to take down a simple pack of wolves, but these were entirely different. Their fur had been as black as the night, and were nearly twice the size of their smaller cousins. They fought with a strong pack mentality, easily surrounding the hunters turned hunted. The two had slain three of the wolves before they had to run through the thick forest before falling to the ground in a clearing in the forest and Mjoll had quickly gotten to her feet and kept running, unaware that Arnor was not by her side._

 _Mjoll withdrew her steel sword from the wolf's throat and retrieved any intact arrows she could from its corpse. She retraced her steps carefully, easy to see her prints in the half-foot deep snow, though her heavy leather and iron armor made it impossible for her to remain silent. An hour passed before she found a recognizable landmark; a tree stump with a strange rune burned into its side. She had run past it in her attempt to escape the wolf on her tail hours before. Not too far until she reached the grove. She picked up the pace, worried for her friend, hoping she could find any trace of him…that is, if he was still alive._ 'No! Snap out of it! He will be alive and you will slap some sense into him for not keeping up with you!' _Her thoughts were racing as she finally reached the clearing. She pushed aside a branch as she stepped inside the emptiness. Several meter-high rocks littered the clearing, and she realized why they had fallen in the first place, noticing the many rocks protruding from the snow. "Arnor? Are you here?" she asked quietly._

 _She took a circular path around the clearing, searching for any signs of someone or something entering or leaving the clearing. Every now and then, she would glance up and look around her, hoping Arnor would walk up to her and ask what took her so long. Once she made a full circuit, she walked several meters further in and began another circuit, this time in the opposite direction. She repeated the process until she stopped suddenly._ 'What was that noise?' _she thought to herself. She stood still for several moments until the sound reached her ears again, faint against the whistling breeze in the trees. A whining came from her left, deeper in the clearing. She drew her sword and tread carefully toward the sound. A mere dozen meters away was another wolf, much larger than the others in the pack, with a white muzzle and ears and white fur adorning its legs and tail. It was laying on the ground, a deep gash in its side leading up to its back. Across its muzzle, several smaller cuts were arrayed in a haphazard manner._

 _The wolf looked up and noticed the human, growling when it saw her. With a yell, Mjoll plunged her sword into its heart, spilling more of its life essence onto the snow-covered ground. With a final whimper, the alpha wolf died and its head fell to the earth. Mjoll retrieved her sword with a thick_ squelch _and returned to her search. She inspected the ground surrounding the wolf and found foot prints leading toward the skirmish. Further search yielded footsteps leading away, but Mjoll froze when she noticed blood following the prints, and not a small amount. Mjoll sprinted off, following the prints. If Arnor was still alive, and was injured in such a way Mjoll suspected, he wouldn't be for long. If she couldn't find him and get him back to the village soon, it may be too late for him._

 _It took a few minutes, but the young woman eventually found what, or rather whom, she was looking for. Slumped against a rock, steel sword in hand and wolf at his feet, bleeding out onto the white snow, was Arnor. A large gash tore across the left side of his abdomen, and a bite marred his right arm, coating his clothes and skin with his blood. Mjoll fell to her knees in front of him and gently placed her hands on his cheeks. "Arnor?"_

 _His eyed fluttered open and were unfocused. Mjoll was overjoyed to see his amber and green eyes staring back at her. "Mjoll? Are we dead?"_

 _Mjoll could almost laugh in joy when she heard his voice. "No. We're alive. We're both alive."_

 _Arnor nodded and tried to get up but pain wracked his body and he fell back to the ground with a groan._

" _No, stay down for a moment. You're too wounded to get up on your own." Mjoll opened her rucksack and pulled out a roll of bandages and was about to apply them to his stomach before a hand stilled her._

" _Wait. I need to…I need to try something…"_

" _Arnor, we don't have time to waste. You've lost too much blood."_

" _Just…wait…" Arnor raised a hand and placed it on the gash on his abdomen. He pushed through the pain and closed his eyes. With a grunt of effort, a yellow light took form in his hand and stretched into the open wound. Mjoll's eyes widened in astonishment when she saw the healing spell began to take effect. After a moment, Arnor removed his hand and it collapsed to the ground._

 _Mjoll instantly rushed to assess the wound and found it to be far more manageable than before. She quickly wrapped the bandage around his stomach and glanced up to look at Arnor's face. He was panting heavily and was obviously spent from the effort. "Where did you learn to do that?"_

" _My mother…has been teaching me magic lately," he said between panted breaths. "She says I have…a natural gift for it…that it…runs in our blood from…her side of the family. As…as the healer for our town, she thought I…as heir to the chiefhood…should be able to lead…defend, and heal our people."_

 _Mjoll finished her task of wrapping her friend's torso in bandages. Once she was done, she turned to the less worrying bite wound on his right arm. After a minute, she had completed that task too. "All right, we need to head out. We should try to get back to Amdu'ul, maybe we'll find the others on the way."_

 _Arnor nodded and with a hand from Mjoll and a grunt and groan from him, he was able to stand. Mjoll placed herself under his left arm and led him towards their village. An hour later and they had made little progress. The sun had long since set during their run from the wolves, and their fatigue was catching up to both of them. Arnor stumbled several times on the way and Mjoll had been there each time to keep him from falling to the ground._

 _Suddenly, they froze when they heard a sound that sent shivers of fear down their spines. A growl came from ahead and was steadily growing louder. Mjoll would have drawn her sword, but was struggling to keep Arnor up with both her hands. Fortunately, Arnor had one arm free and took his steel dagger from its scabbard on his side. From the shadows emerged a black wolf, snarling at the both of them. With a leap and a howl, it bounded towards both of them. Knowing both of them were unable to do anything, Mjoll closed her eyes, waiting for the jaws of the beast to end her life. She was pushed to her side, but no jaws clamped around her. She opened her eyes just in time to see a black form land on Arnor, pushing him to the ground. "ARNOR!"_

 _With a scream, she jumped up and barreled into the wolf, pushing it off her friend. It fell to the ground with a whimper and Mjoll was in the process of drawing her sword when she noticed a leather handle protruding from the wolf's sternum. A well-placed thrust of Arnor's hand had pierced the wolf's heart. With a gasp, Mjoll looked back and saw Arnor on the ground once again, coughing up blood and newly reddened bandages seeping with blood._

 _She scrambled over to him and pulled his head into her lap. "You idiot! You great, big, fucking idiot!"_

 _A wet chuckle left Arnor's lips. "Sorry, Mjoll. Couldn't let you get hurt."_

 _Tears leaked from Mjoll's eyes, falling onto Arnor's hair auburn hair. "And what about you?" she asked, biting back a sob._

" _Ha, couldn't care less…as long as…you're safe…" His eyes fluttered closed and a gentle breath left his lips._

" _No. No, No, NO! PLEASE DON'T GO!"_

 _Voices other than her own pushed through the forest, but Mjoll didn't hear them._

" _Mjoll!"_

" _Arnor!"_

" _They're over here!"_

 _Hands tried to pull Mjoll away, but she wouldn't let go. She was too focused on holding onto Arnor's limp body. With a scream, she was pulled back and away from Arnor. "LET ME GO! LET GO OF ME! HE NEEDS ME!" She was lifted another pair of hands joined the first carrying her away. Arnor's body was gently picked up and both were rushed back to Amdu'ul._

0o0o0o0o0

Arnor could still remember the scolding he received when he woke two days later, and the bruises he gained when they trained with wooden weapons against each other. Arnor was about to turn to Mjoll and ask her a question when he heard footsteps approaching from ahead. He stopped and motioned Mjoll to do the same. Using a Detect Life spell from his left hand, Arnor noticed two figures coming toward them in the next room. He extinguished the spell and replaced it with another that Mjoll didn't recognize. Arnor fed magicka into the spell and once it was ready, he triggered it, disappearing into the air. Mjoll bit back a gasp when she saw his body vanish into nothing. Seconds later, she heard a gurgle and heavy thud followed by the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath. The ringing of metal on metal reached Mjoll's ears and she rushed into the room just in time to see Arnor slash into a Thalmor soldier's throat. The Altmer dropped her sword and grasped her throat before falling to the ground in an armored heap beside her mage companion. She convulsed for a moment before she stilled and died, her blood mixing with the filthy water.

Mjoll looked up to see Arnor tear a strip off the Altmer's tunic and use it to wipe the blood off his dagger. He dropped the dirty rag and glanced back at Mjoll. A smile crossed his face when he saw the look of disbelief on her face. "What?"

"We're going against the Thalmor?" she finally said, almost a whisper, though in the dead-quiet sewers, she might as well have screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Yup. They've attacked me on multiple occasions and I finally had enough. I joined forces with someone who shares one of the same goals as me, and if I can kill a few Thalmor along the way, that's fine by me. While I may be an advocate for the Empire, I hate the Thalmor and how they treat anyone in Skyrim. If I had the chance, I would throw each and every one of them onto the next boat to the Summerset Isles."

Mjoll nodded silently and followed Arnor as he continued through the sewers to their destination, wherever that was. It took half an hour and nearly a dozen more Thalmor soldiers and mages to stop in front of a heavy wooden door with a viewport bolted on. "This should be it. We're looking for Esbern, an old man. I need to escort him back to Riverwood."

"How do we know if he's truly Esbern? What if he's been replaced by one of those Thalmor?" she asked cautiously.

Arnor grinned back at her. "Don't worry, I know what to say to prove that." He turned and knocked heavily on the door.

"What? Who's there? What do you want? Go away!" an elderly voice said through the door.

"Make up your mind, will you?" Mjoll said under breath.

"Esbern?" Arnor called out. "Delphine sent us. She told us to ask 'Where were you on the 30th of Frostfall?'"

The bolt in the viewport opened a few seconds later and a wizened face appeared behind the door. "Delphine? She's still alive? After all this time?"

"Yes, she sent me to find you and escort you back to her inn in Riverwood. She said you're needed for the Blades."

"Oh, oh! Let me open the door." The bolt shut in Arnor's face and he heard several locks and chains disengaging from the other side of the door.

"And I thought I was paranoid," Arnor muttered.

Finally, the door was pulled open and an old man greeted them with a grim expression. "Come in! Come in! Hurry! We mustn't let them see us!" he hissed.

Arnor and Mjoll stepped inside and Esbern shut the door behind them with a resounding thud. Esbern turned back to them with a frown on his face. "I'm afraid you've come all this way for nothing. If Delphine sent you, that means the rumors are true; dragons are returning to Skyrim."

Arnor nodded. "Yes, but they're not just returning, they're coming back to life. Alduin has returned."

Esbern's jaw dropped. He stammered for a moment before he was finally able to form words again. "Alduin? The World-Eater?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Well, then, we're all doomed. Only the Dragonborn is able to defeat Alduin but we would have known by now if a Dovahkiin had emerged." Esbern's expression turned from one of disappointment to one of hope and joy in an instant. "Has Delphine finally found one? Is that why she sent you?"

Arnor shook his head remorsefully. "I'm sorry, but I can't say that here, Esbern. If you'll come with us, we can explain everything once we're in Riverwood. Unless you want to stay here in the sewers for the rest of your days, but that's up to you."

Esbern looked away in thought. Arnor could understand what he was going through. Whether or not to pick everything up and start a new life, or continue with the one laid out for him, even if it was in the sewers under the crime capital of Skyrim.

After a moment, Esbern turned to them and said, "Alright. I'll go with you."

0o0o0o0o0

 **Dragon Language:**

 **Silfeyn – Soul Bane**

 **Amdu'ul – Lion Crown**

 **Mods mentioned in this chapter:**

 **Valiant Nord Bow**

 **Author: corvalho1**

 **Berserk Judeau Armor Mod**

 **Author: Gimora**

 **Ported to Xbox One by: TFBO**

 **Isilmeriel's LOTR Weapons**

 **Author: isilmeriel**

 **Bandolier: Bags And Pouches Classic**

 **Author: Dragten**

 **Equippable Tomes – Belt-Worn Books**

 **Author: Robbie922004**


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